


Mending Iron

by scrawlingcomet



Series: Gold in the Cracks [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Blood, Canonical Character Death, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, F/M, Gore, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Pegging, Violence, tags will be added later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:16:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6840448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrawlingcomet/pseuds/scrawlingcomet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes time to mend things. It's tiring to always be tough and flawless, sometimes there are cracks. Proper structure and care is needed. The Iron Lady and The Iron Bull will help mend each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Keep the Cold Out

**Tal-Vashoth**. The word stained his mouth and stuck in his throat like blood. It wasn’t easy dealing with this loss. He’d never felt lost. No. He just never acknowledged it. Being lost is harrowing and empty. The window that finally blew open to let the cold wind howl in, it was chill at his back. This was his fear, hooked by his own compulsions. Tearing into his skin, letting them reel him to and fro. If he went about himself as usual, no one would notice. Rude comments here and there, swing his axe, fuck, drink, joke with the Chargers, no one would notice. 

 

Madame De Fer noticed of course. She always noticed. She was very observant, The Iron Bull liked that about her. It was one of the many things he liked about her. “Bull, darling.” She’d say, not in any way, but her voice danced across his skin, warmed his base and made his knees weak. 

 

“Do stand up straight, darling.” She said one day when they were out on a mission. No exclamation, but full of command. His spine snapped right and his shoulders squared. He looked quickly to her, for her approval, and the slightest of nods gave him affirmation. He felt, grounded. Grounded from where his mind was wandering, more focused on the mission.

 

It started out so quietly; he had to admit he didn’t realize exactly what she was doing, not at first. Inviting him for tea, casually asking for his input on clothing, having him help her cart around the latest books and scrolls, inviting him to the spa, whenever she needed him, he was there. They developed a routine.

 

“Yes Ma’am” he’d answer whenever she requested something of him. He’d have to say he was eager to help her, to please her, it gave him something to do, kept the cold out.

 

“To keep out the cold, darling.” Her voice echoed his sentiments one particularly chilling night when he was helping her move around her new furniture. He bellowed, The Iron Bull didn't get cold, but he couldn’t refuse the fine liquor in the very Orlesian bottle. 

 

The Madame poured them both a glass as he sat across from her. He couldn’t help notice the bronze color of the drink resembled the highlight of her cheeks, but it was not as dazzling. She handed him his glass, the tulip shape quite small in his grasp, but she compensated with a hefty amount, her portion much more reasonable than his. 

 

Vivienne rose her glass, inviting him to a silent toast. Something in her eyes was little sad, even though her lips smiled warmly and charmingly at him. Maybe he shouldn’t ask, but he did, it felt right to ask.

 

“What are we toasting to, Ma’am?”

 

She let out the slightest laugh. She looked away, to the fire she was willing to live in the fireplace, always practicing her self-control. Vivienne took a deep sniff of her drink, seeming for a moment to get lost in its aroma. She let another laugh finally remembering his question. “To managing.” Vivienne touched her glass to his and then herself to draw deeply from it, audibly gulping, the fire wavering for just a second. 

 

He perhaps was watching her a little too long, a little too intently as she soon motioned with her hand for him to drink. He did as instructed, also taking a moment to smell it, the slightest hint of peaches, he took a swig and it burned the whole way down.

 

The two drank in silence.  It was nice to relax for a change everything was always going to shit. He made a point to watch the fire as it was comforting, and remarkable how well she kept it burning. It was in sync with her and he noticed as she was starting to sink into her seat the fire started shrinking.

 

“Ma’am?” He asked breaking the silence. 

 

Vivienne made a slurred questioning noise. She tried to righten herself, but couldn’t muster the strength to sit up straight. She huffed and wiggled in her seat. It was a bit cute.

 

“Bull, be a lamb and help me.” He laughed to himself about being a lamb, but heeded her call anyways. If he could help her build a bath while they were camping he could certainly help her sit upright. He took the empty glass that had fallen into the cradle of her thighs and set it down on the table. Bull bent low so he could hook his hands under her arms and pull her upwards. It was much dimmer in the room, the silver light of the moon and stars overtaking the orange glow of a withering fire.

 

Once Vivienne was as upright as her tired body would allow Bull kneeled down before her so he was level with her drooping head. Her sleepy eyes found his face and focused as she caught his eye. “Do you need anything else, Ma’am?”

 

 Wordless she raised her right leg, keeping her gaze locked with his. He understood the silent command; he’d done this before. He was _sure._ Interesting, he hadn’t felt sure since the Dreadnaught sank. He took her ankle and for a moment admired how elegant her boot was, not as elaborate when she had on her shield guards, but finely crafted. He pulled off her boot and set it gently underneath the table, out of the way, and did the same with her left. He felt her shift as he contemplated pulling off her stockings, her palm pressed gently to his cheek and he turned his head back up to her. She was more in command of her face now, he eyes were much more focused and her expression soft. She leaned forward, but not too close, almost an arm's length between them.

 

“Do you want to kiss me, Bull?” The warmth of the fire suddenly gone, his back cold, but warmth radiated from the woman in front of him, inviting him. His gaze shot to her full lips, a smile was tugging at the corners. He fixed himself to lean in closer, his hand covering the one resting on his cheek, completely enveloping hers. He looked back to her brown eyes, calm, steady, welcoming, her gaze did not beg or demand anything of him, but still, he was sure of what he wanted.

 

He licked his lips, something to give him pause so he could ask. “Do you want to, M-“

 

 “Vivienne, you can say Vivienne.” She pulled him up to her, a breath apart she held him. Time must have passed before he decided, the moonlight was hiding, it was completely dark, but when he moved in it felt like it happened in an instant. He pressed his lips to hers, pecks at a time, trying to find a way to fit together. Her lips were as soft as rose petals, and they smelled like them too, he’d seen her use a balm made with roses. Roses mingled with the heady taste of peaches, intoxication renewed. Smooth and soft lips against chapped and grooved lips. The chill at his back was gone, she warmed the whole of him, and those pesky shutters of fear held firmly closed by the gentleness she was offering him.

 

She stopped and pulled away. She looked at him and cradled his face in her hands, his hand not covering the one his face, supported her head as she tilted it. The fire was starting again, he could hear it crackle and pop its way back to life, it felt like a much different kind warmth from the one he was already feeling. She sat back and took her hands in his, he did not follow he did not move, he waited on Vivienne.

 

“My dear, I will call upon you another time.” No command in her voice, just weariness. Her thumbs traced aimlessly over the palms of his hands. She held his gaze, waiting for him to understand.

 

“Yes, Ma’am.” He answered, nodding once firmly. He held her hands for a moment and then released them rising to stand. He watched for a moment, and she watched him. He walked away and stood in the doorway, turning back he watched her stand, she was looking at the fire, she was contemplating something. He turned away and closed the door quietly behind him.

 

______

 

It was much later than when he arrived to her room, most of the fires were out, some embers faintly glowing. It was quiet. There were stragglers in the tavern, but the laughs and celebration had ceased. He went up to his room. Bull looked at the fireplace, wood beside it waiting to be fed to a fire, but it wasn’t cold, he let it be. He sat at the foot of his bed and began to pull off his boots.

 

 _“…another time.”_ Her words came to his mind and settled there. He was sure that would be soon.


	2. Thinking of You

It caught his eye among the scrap, tarnished and dusty, a treasure forgotten and buried in the shopkeeper’s wares. Maybe that was intended as when the shopkeeper surveyed what he picked out he spiked the price considerably. Bull convinced the shopkeeper to lower it however, as anyone just glancing would only see plain cloth, thread, a ball of yarn, and one tiny piece of scrap metal. Bull took his items and made a nest in his arms to help protect the little trinket from any further damage.

 

 

Bull rejoined the party at the camp, handing over the ball of yarn to the already knitting Adaar, she’s been learning from Krem and took the time to practice when they were settling in at night. He figured she was de-stressing too, as she always looked peaceful with her needles clacking away. He kept the cloth and thread for himself, needing to mend a few things.

 

He made quick work of cutting the cloth up with the scissors in his sewing kit, eyeballing the different sizes he needed, and leaving some to wrap up the trinket so he could safeguard it. He couldn’t clean it now as he didn’t have what he needed to make it shine, and he didn’t want to buy anything from the small town, the smell would sour the camp, he would have to wait till they returned to Skyhold. In the meantime he sets about patching up holes in his blanket.

 

______

 

Vivienne thought it strange that this reminded her of him; she thought it stranger that she was even thinking of him. Then again, the warm buzzing feeling came to her mind, and she pressed her fingers to her lips, for a moment.

 

Moving from her lips she curled her fingers around the material, a mixture of fabric, slightly fuzzy, sturdy and taut, velveteen, dyed a dull pink from crushed plants. Perhaps she could commission a belt for Iron Bull? She had a good eye for estimating, but it was probably better to get a more accurate measurement.

 

She put a generous amount on hold and paid for the items she’d already commissioned. The Inquisitor was due back at Skyhold soon she’d have to find a discreet way to measure Iron Bull’s waist. She left the seamstress feeling a little lighthearted at the thought, even a little pensive, gift giving was something she did often, but how meaningful the gift was varied. She felt her heart flutter.

 

______

           

It was well past sundown by the time they arrived back at Skyhold, but Iron Bull made quick work of procuring some vinegar and baking soda from the kitchen, then he set it to soak up in his room. His nostrils flared, the smell would be potent by the time he came back up, but maybe the open window and crack in the door would relieve the smell.

 

He joined the Chargers down in the tavern, they welcomed him loudly, a mug of ale ready and waiting. He took a drink, burnt like hell, just the way he liked it. He smiled at his drink. It was good, smelt of hops, the alcohol strong enough to burn the eyes. Wished it smelt like peaches though, wished for it to be fruiter, smoother. He downed his mug without further thought, Krem already bringing another round.

 

“How was the mission, Chief?” Krem asked handing him another mug. Bull noticed a pink and haggard knitted chain poking up from Krem’s belt, he smiled quickly, knowing it was Adaar’s.

 

“Wolves Krem, heh, lots of wolves.” Bull took a swig readying himself to tell the tale.

______

 

The smell from the vinegar wasn’t as sour or awful as he feared. Using spare cloth he rubbed the tarnish away from the silver. He was a little drunk and a little unsure just how long he’d been drinking, but it was long enough he had little trouble cleaning off the trinket. It revealed itself to be flower shaped like a lily, with a deep blue opal in the center, flecked with orange and green, just the slightest hints of violet and lighter blues. It reminded him of Vivienne’s magic. It was a maelstrom of color, orange fire, blue ice, the violet lightning, and eerily green spirit magic. It seems like it was once a brooch, but the base was broken off, he’d get it fixed.

 

Bull squinted trying to inspect the brooch for more tarnish or damage near the candlelight but it was still too dark he would have to check it again in the morning. For now he swished it around in a basin of water then dried it to get rid of the vinegar’s smell. He leaned out his window and checked for anyone underneath, then threw out the rest of his used solution his nose needed some relief from the smell. He gave the brooch a final wipe to make sure it was dry and then stowed it away in the drawer of his side table for safe keeping.

 

Stripping away the rest of his clothes he flopped back onto his bed. Bull ticked off his mental list going over things he needed to do tomorrow. His mind drifted to Vivienne, the smell of peaches and roses blanketing his senses.

 

 _'Vivienne, you can say Vivienne.'_ A final whisper across his skin as sleep overcame him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally right?  
> Some smut in the next chapter to make up for my absence~


	3. Hold Still

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW chapter

It’s been roughly a month since a mission didn’t stand between them, since that night, since they could be alone, since Vivienne could lean into Iron Bull, press into him, kiss him.

 

Kiss him. Wrap her arms around his neck, pull him to her, trace along his skin, feel him.

 

His body curled down over hers. A hand placed under her rump to lift up her up off the ground. Soft, Viv was soft, so warm, sweet. His other hand pressed against her back, caressing lightly.

 

Bull’s lips were softer than last time. He was a little smoother here and there, his beard trimmed and not quite as biting when it brushed against her skin.

 

He followed her lead, pecks at a time, sucking, pulling, and yielding to her mouth. So intently did he follow, he tried to chase her lips when she broke away, but she held his face, held him still. He opened his eye, trying to focus, his gaze locked with hers. She smiled.

 

“Put me down, dear.” She said calm, steady, and he did, as calmly as she spoke. Vivienne gestured to the table where their tea was waiting on her balcony. She urged him to follow.

 

Bull watched her for a moment admiring how gracefully she moved. The way her clothes fit to her form. Her ass. She looked over her shoulder at him and smirked, knowing.

 

At last he joined her. He offered to pour the tea this time, but as usual she refused and poured them their drinks. A golden pink color filled the cups, fragrant and flowery, rose tea. She really enjoyed this flavor always saying it was a healthy luxury. She filled his cup with an obscene amount of honey just to his tastes and offered him a plate of jam filled cookies. Peach centers in round little cookies. She never sweetened her tea, but she said the sweets she ate made up for it.

 

It made little difference to Bull, the sweeter the better in his opinion. Flowery tea and cookies, it was a nice midday treat. He took in the scent of his cup, rose and honey, like a sweet bouquet of flowers.

 

Flower.

 

Oh! Oh, he forgot the brooch in the pouch at his waist. He laughed at himself and then laughed a little louder when she quirked her brow. He put his cup down.

 

“I hope you don’t mind, Ma’am,” He started leaning up out of his chair to reach his pouch. She set down her cup to watch him expectantly.

 

“It was by chance that I saw it. I know it’s not wrapped anything fancy, but here.” He brought a wrapped object into view. A simple patterned cloth wrapped around something. Vivienne took it and studied it for a moment it had some weight to it for something so small.

 

“Thank you, my dear. A gift is always appreciated.” Not put off by its presentation she unwrapped it. This, this she didn’t expect.

 

“OH! This is absolutely lovely! Thank you, Iron Bull.” She smiled and tilted it back and forth to catch the sunlight. It was simpler than she would’ve chosen, but it was exquisite. Well since this happened there was no need to hide what she was planning. She rose from her seat and went inside to her vanity.

 

“Finish your tea, would you? Come inside for a moment, dear.” Her voice was a little muffled as she was leaning into her mirror to adjust the brooch on her top.

 

Bull made quick work of his tea and biscuits, taking a quick second to wipe away the crumbs. “Ma’am?”

 

Vivienne was sifting around her drawer for something, he could see a glint from the brooch as she moved around.

 

“Take off your belt and hold still, my dear.” She said finally finding what she needed and walking to him.

 

 

“My belt? Heh, okay, Peaches!” He smiled broadly and did as she asked.

 

She stopped for a second realizing what he said, he started getting ready to apologize, but she spoke before he could. “Peaches? Hm, I like that.”

 

He laughed again.

 

“When it’s just us, of course.” She said taking his belt and looking at it for a moment.

 

“Can do, Ma’am.” He agreed inclining his head to look at her as she turned his belt over in her hands. Bull held his pants up, they were a touch loose and she hadn’t asked him to drop them. She threw the belt onto her shoulder and began unraveling the tape measure.

 

“I intend to have a belt made for you Iron Bull. A little token of my thanks.” Vivienne smiled up at him. She wrapped the tape measure around his waistline. The fabric was rough, but her fingers were soft, tickling him where they brushed his skin.

 

A belt? “A belts not necessary, Ma’am. I’m happy to be of use to you.” He laughed just slightly. He was still letting her take measurements, but he really just liked her touch.

 

“Neither was a brooch, but no matter. I’ve already started the preparations.” Vivienne finished her measurements and went to jot down the numbers.

 

He watched her for a moment, she’d taken his belt with her. “May I have my belt back, Ma’am?”

 

“Do you have another appointment, The Iron Bull?” She chuckled out, knowing full well he was free today. She took of her brooch and placed on top of her vanity along with his belt and the tape measure.

 

“No, Ma’am!” He laughed back.

 

“Bring in the tea and close up the balcony door, would you? It’s rather drafty.” She was already removing her own belt, watching his reflection in her vanity mirror.

 

It was difficult to get everything together one handed, but he rather not drop his pants until he was told to do so. Closing the door was a little harder, but done without too much noise. He placed everything on the table in front of the fireplace.

 

“Do undress yourself.” Her voice came sweetly.

 

“Ha! Yes Ma’am!” He was done in a moment. He turned to her and …and…

 

Beautiful. Captivating. Skin dark, reflecting the orange light that streamed in from the windows.

 

“Come here, Bull.” Barely above a whisper and she extended her hand to him.

He scooped her up into his arms, his forearms acting as her perch. She was smaller without the tall hat, or the boots. Weighty from the muscle built from training, but soft from the kind way she treated her body.

 

Vivienne held his head still. Left hand grasped around the base of his right horn, her right hand cradling the back of his head. She leant down to kiss him, deep and long. Pulling, sucking. He didn’t much expect her to bite, but she did, and the hazy feeling crept into his body.

 

He laid her down gently onto the bed, following her mouth, eager to keep their lips pressed. His knees nearly buckled, when her tongue poked into his mouth. He sucked, hearing the moan catch in her throat. She scratched, hard, from his scalp to his shoulder. He broke away to hiss. He watched her face, eyes a little wide, mouth open, wet, sucking in air.

 

Bull smirked. “What do you want me to do, _Peaches_?”

 

Viv barked out a laugh and pulled his lips back down to hers. She pecked and pecked. Bit and tugged on his bottom lip.

 

“Eat me.” She whispered against his mouth.

 

“Sure, I love peaches.” He couldn’t help himself. She suppressed this laugh. He made up for it with more kisses along her neck mindful of his horns.

 

She liked when he rubbed his beard along her neck. Breathy moans came when he bit and sucked her dark nipples. Giggly moans when he kissed along her stomach and pelvis. Sensitive around her thighs, they trembled when bit and licked, caressed the back of her thighs and squeezed her ass.

 

Bull pulled her legs up over his shoulders and licked along Viv’s slit. She was dripping. He moved one hand to hold her waist. _Hold still._ A silent command with the squeeze of his hand, and she did. Breathing hard, sheen of sweat along her body. He was hard, dick rubbing against sheets, little shocks of pleasure running along his spine. That could come later.

 

Her clit swollen and he pressed gently with his tongue, testing what she liked. A _yes_ hissed out of her mouth when he pressed just hard enough. He kept that pressure steady, licked and sucked, rubbing his thumb along her folds. He alternated, pressing steady circles along her clit with his thumb, tongue finally tasting her

 

He moaned against her cunt. He wanted to taste her forever. Her scent filled his senses. Heavy and intoxicating. He looked up over her mound , watched her blissed faced. Her eyes were closed. Breathy moans flowing freely from her mouth.

 

His hand moved from her waist to her breast, to knead it. Her hand came down over his, directing him.

 

He pressed a finger into her cunt, _slowly_ , and she sucked in deeply and moaned. He pressed in all the way, and pulled out just as slowly. He did that a few times, encouraged by the _yes_ she whispered. His tongue joined alongside his finger, and then moved to suck her clit again, tongue swirling, matching the speed of his finger. _Slow, slow. Slow, hard. Fast, fast, faster._

He curled his finger, finding that sweet bundle of nerves. She quaked. _Yes!_ He focused on that spot. Lapping at her clit. Her moans just heavy breathes. He felt her cunt tighten around his finger. She gasped. He looked up to watch her. Her body shook and arched. She came with little sound, nothing but quick breaths and shudders.

 

He removed her legs from his shoulder and rose up to look at her. Her eyes still closed, coming back to herself. He caressed her cheek and she cracked her eyes open to look at him.

 

“You’re next.” She breathed, smiling just a touch.

 

He laughed. “Yes Ma’am.”


	4. Phantom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter might feel a little gorey to some, so I've added the appropriate tag. It's not like that the whole chapter however, either way proceed with caution.

_White iridescent scales reflected orange fire. The earth trembled from the beast’s rampage. A snowy wyvern, larger than it should have been putting up a relentless fight. Hissing, lunging, snapping, spitting poison._

_It was just Vivienne against the beast. It sprayed a green stream of poison at her, barely catching her left cheek. A feather light touch but the poison burnt like hell and she could hear her skin sizzling and melting away. The pain made her dizzy, unfocused._

_The wyvern’s tail struck Vivienne’s stomach hard like a battering ram. Something cracked. Its many dagger like scales shredding through armor, cloth, and skin, scarping bone. Smashing her deep into the earth, wedging her body into a chasm._

_Her breath quickened. It hurt to breathe. The chasm squished her onto herself like it was trying to wring her of her blood. Her stomach hurt beyond pain. Was the left side of her face still there? Above her the roar of the wyvern drowned by the thundering pulse in her ears. The sky was a sickly green and gray smear whirring in sync with the beast’s rage._

_Something came into a view at first she thought the wyvern. No! It was Bastien, but how could he be here? He was bedridden. He looked down at her, no past her, and then he looked up at something in the distance. A deluge of poison covered his form and instantly he melted and oozed into a chasm, like bile. Filling the chasm coming up to ears, burning, whispering into her ears._

_“ You…failed…. failed Vivienne….failed….not enough….did” The fluid hooked into her flesh, seized her._

_A shadow loomed over her, the wyvern above her. It’s chest slit open slowly like it was being cut from the inside out, the Inquisitor’s glowing green hand pushing out with the wyvern’s heart in her grasp._

_She let it go, let it fall to Vivienne._

_Fall._

_Fall._

_The heart was falling to her, to meet her square in the chest._

_A long way do-_

_No._

_No!_

_NO!_

_The organ froze in its descent just above her._

_This wasn’t wright. This was all behind her._

_‘The fade! The fade is trying to take you! Wake up! Wake up!”_

_A flash of white light overtook her vision._

Vivienne shot up out of her sleep. Sitting upright, gasping, frantically she looked around.

 

She took in her surroundings.

 

She formed ice in her had, it was cold, it was solid, it was there, it was real, she was real.

 

Awake!

 

She was awake.

 

She took a long deep breath. Evened herself out. _‘Slowly, slowly, just breathe slowly.’_

 

Her bed was cold, empty, she was cold, but intrusive thoughts flooded her mind. _‘No! Focus!’_ Fire, she needed fire.

 

She found her robe and put her arms through the sleeves, one by one, focusing on the sensation of her skin brushing against silk. She walked slowly to her fireplace, trying not to get tangled in her nightgown and robe.

 

She didn’t look for the moon or stars to figure out the time. She could feel it. It was late, very late.

 

Vivienne added wood to the fireplace, and then sat down in front of the hearth. She started with a low flame, for a moment letting it burn naturally, and then began manipulating its height and its glow. Blue to orange, blue to orange.

 

Just focus. Just keep it a-alive.

 

Just keep it alive…

______

 

Iron Bull’s left eye was aching, well the socket was aching at least. He swore he could still see it through that eye, see flashes of that flail hurtling towards him. See his ring finger and pinky fly off before it reached his face. He heard the messy crunch of his fingers yielding. He could hear the squelching pop of the spike impaling his eye. Feel the pain of tug his eye leaving his skull shooting through his body.

 

It was right to help Krem then. Everyday Krem lives as himself is right. Not a day did he regret helping someone in danger, nor finding a Vint who could knock him on his ass and knock back a few with him.

 

But damn the pain, the pain was immense. The socket throbbed, made his whole head feel like it was being constricted. He swore it was bleeding, but it wasn’t, it couldn’t be. But that chilling feeling of blood oozing didn’t leave him. He pressed his palm to his eye patch, sometimes the pressure helped, but it wasn’t this time. He nudged his fingers under the eye patch, felt for blood. His skin, his fingers, the sensation of touching blood, being coated in it stuck fresh in his mind. He drew his fingers back and looked. Nothing.

 

He dropped his head into his hands, covering his face. Agony. It hurt from the base of his horns down to his jaw. He gritted his teeth, the best he could do so late at night was sleep it off. Pain was starting in his left had, where the parts of his fingers were missing, radiating in his bone, all the way to shoulder. It was so sharp it felt almost numb. Iron Bull desperately needed to restock his medicine supply.

 

 _‘Stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking! Damn it! It makes it worse’_ He pressed his face.

 

 _‘Just get through the rest of the night. This will pass.’_ He groaned from pain, why did thinking make it feel worse?

 

He felt chilly. He shivered. The pain heightened. He slowly reached around him, keeping his right eye closed, as it was too much to open it. Finding the sheets he tugged at them and untucked them, wrapped them around himself and cocooned his body. Not very thick, but at least it was soft and just warm enough. It helped, just a little.

 

_‘Just keep my eye closed, keep it closed. That’s enough.’_

 

______

 

The wind was howling, Vivienne felt the chill through her coat. In her boots her toes felt cold and wet. She was tired and felt ready to blow away in the wind. Unsure if she was even still moving or if she was dreaming again. She kept trying to form fire in her hands but the wind was too strong, not even her magic could resist it.

 

Iron Bull walked alongside her, shielding her from the worst of the weather, he didn’t look too well himself. He claimed the armor quality of his vitaar protected him from the elements but even in this weather his form huddled over slightly as they walked, his arms crossed over his chest. His face was a haggard, dark circles under his eye, a gritting frown set hard on his mouth. She looped an arm into his, hoping they could salvage some warmth between their bodies.

 

Ahead of them Inquisitor Adaar lead their party, letting Sera cling to her side as they trudged along. Sera screamed something about her tits snapping off, and honestly, Vivienne was partial to agreeing with that declaration. They were meant to close a Fade rift near Sahrina but the weather suddenly took a turn for the worst. There was no doubt a blizzard was kicking up.

 

Adaar’s voice managed to cut through the wind. “The cave I spotted earlier is just a bit further! Let’s keep moving!”

 

The cave was coming into view, and thankfully the climb to it wasn’t steep. If it weren’t for the treacherous weather and a heightened chance of death, the orange and pink of the sunset would be beautiful.

 

Just keep moving. They could make it.

______

 

No light could penetrate the fast falling snow and utter darkness of night. They made it into the cave before the worst of it hit. They were all crowded around the fire, changed into dry clothing. Well mostly changed.

 

“The Iron Bull doesn’t get cold, M’am.” Bull insisted, trying to push away the shirt Vivienne was offering him.

 

If she could get him to change his belt, she could certainly get him to wear a shirt when he needed it most.

 

“I don’t need a shirt, M’am.” He wasn’t very convincing today. His bout of pain from last night had finally subsided but it took a toll on him. He ached all day and that combined with the cold had him feeling less and less like an unyielding object. His voice was just a touch quieter, his form just a little more hunched.

 

Vivienne just looked at him, unamused a frown pulled down at her lips. He sighed giving in and accepting the shirt. It fit well. He rolled up the sleeves up over his elbows as they stopped well before his wrists and the draft from that made the length feel useless. She must’ve been planning to give him a shirt to go along with the belt. He did like the belt she’d given him recently, it was pink, and didn’t itch his skin. It worked well with his buckle and was muted enough it didn’t stand starkly against his usual pants.

 

“Thank you, my dear.” Vivienne’s voice came out hoarse. She already looked tired this morning before the mission,and Bull noticed her eye makeup was a little more elaborate to distract from it. Well it was elaborate earlier, now her makeup was wiped away. She offered him a spare blanket, but he was sure he didn’t need it and she accepted his refusal this time.

 

“What about your horns, Iron Bull? They look awfully chapped.” Vivienne asked sifting around through her things.

 

Bull reached up to feel his horns, they did feel drier and rougher, and the base of his horns felt tender and burned from the chill.

 

“I suppose they are a worse for wear, Ma’am.” He concluded rubbing along the grooves and notches.

 

“Here you are then. A salve. The Inquisitor has already testified to its effectiveness, I insist that you use it.” At that Adaar looked up briefly from her journal and smiled. Vivienne held a palm sized jar to him.

 

He covered her hand for a moment with his, considering taking it for a moment and kissing the top of it. Would that be appropriate? Would she mind? He took the jar, but Viviene quickly took hold of his wrist as he moved away.

 

She must’ve noticed his slight pause. “Let me help you with that, my dear. We must make sure to get every inch.”

 

“That’s not nece-” He began but Vivienne cut him short.

 

“I insist.” She made quick work of taking that jar from him and opening it. It smelt floral, like chamomile and rose. She placed the jar in is hand so he could hold it up for her to reach. She took some and dabbed a blob on the back of her hand so she didn’t have to go back to the jar too often. He looked at the salve, it was a peachy orange and very thick, not at all trying to budge back into shape around the indent of Viv’s fingers.

 

It was soothing, her fingers running along his scalp. Coating the salve generously around the base of his horns. The tender dry feeling was slowly fading away. He was dozing off, even though the effort she put into rubbing his horns jostled his head back and forth.

 

Blearily, he could see Sera curled up close to both Adaar’s side and the fire. Adaar herself was going over the map again, triple checking their course.

 

By the time Vivienne was done with Iron Bull's horns his head had lulled down to the side, his mind halfway between wake and sleep. He wasn’t even startled when he felt Vivienne’s hands massaging the excess salve into his forearms and hands.

 

He felt Vivienne tug at his arm with purpose, beckoning him to lie down on the tarp and blankets of their makeshift beds. The Inquisitor was apparently taking the first watch. Viv laid down beside Bull facing him, throwing two of their blankets over them. Better for warmth right?

 

Vivienne’s hands found one of his, and she scooted closer to him, holding his hand between them. That surprised him. He cracked his eye to look at her, but her eyes were closed, her face was peaceful. He was warm. This felt warm…in his chest.... He slipped into sleep no longer feeling his aches.

______

Vivienne felt refreshed upon waking. Bastien nor the snowy wyvern visited her dream last night, she was thankful, normally her nightmares were persistent. She wasn’t cold despite the empty spot beside her. Getting up and looking around she saw the Inquisitor and Sera sleeping back to back. Iron Bull was tending to the fire, he was keeping the last watch. She looked to the mouth of the cave, it was still dark and snowing, but it wasn’t a blizzard anymore. The wind whistled in through the mouth of the cave carrying in stray snowflakes. She was sure it was close to sunrise now, but she doubted they’d see much of it.

 

She walked a small distance behind their camp to check on the warding runes to make sure they were still active. The runes hummed and glowed with magic keeping any stray beasts from getting too close to their camp. It wasn’t a particularly deep cave, but Vivienne knew from experience that anything could crawl out from the darkness.

 

Confirming the runes were all still working and properly aligned, Vivienne walked to the fire and sat next to Iron Bull. A pot of water was boiling away and Bull was taking out pieces of pocket soup out of a small satchel lined with butcher’s paper. The irregular shaped pieces always reminded her of hardened caramel with their amber brown coloring. He threw enough pieces into the pot stirring them to help them dissolve.

 

“Morning Ma’am.” He finally said after she offered him some dried herbs to go along with the broth.

 

“Good morning, my dear. How do you feel today?” Vivienne inquired as she gathered the tin cups to drink the soup out of.

 

He wanted to say he was surprised, but she read him well, she always did. “Better, Ma’am. Like I could split a mountain in two! Ha!” He realized his volume and smiled apologetically at her.

 

Iron Bull reached out to take the two cups in his hand and fill them. “You seem much better today yourself, Ma’am.”

 

Vivienne smiled taking one of the two cups of soup. “I am. I feel more as if I’m just enjoying a peaceful morning at Skyhold.” The cup was comforting in her hands, and she sniffed it to take in its earthy aroma.

 

“Good to hear!” He offered his cup to her so they toast, she obliged. The sound of metal hitting metal dulled by the hefty portions of broth in the cups.

 

The broth was beefy and satiating, the saltiness cut by the taste of the herbs. Warmth bloomed in her chest each time she sipped, radiating through her body. It felt peaceful despite the weather.

 

Inquisitor Adaar and Sera soon awoke and joined them for breakfast. Adaar apologized for forgetting to tell them about the bread she packed for them as she wanted them to have it with the soup. Sera and Bull immediately fell into jokes and stories, reassuring the Inquisitor that it was no big deal.

 

Vivienne peered up over her cup at Bull’s laughing face. This was nice.


	5. Need

Bull liked holding her like this. Admiring how she fit neatly against him, curled in his lap. Marveling at how small she was without her tall hats and boots, without that hard as iron exterior that made her seem larger than life. Listening to her breathe, feeling her chest push forward and pull backward against his. How the too fine hairs soft like fuzz emphasized her softness and warmth against him. His arms enveloping Vivienne’s curled form holding her securely but not too tightly. He liked this, but...

 

Lately, lately it’s been different. Touch is all she’s been wanting for. Less words exchanged and her face too cool, too trained for the moments spent alone. He thought, back then, after the blizzard, around the fire that she that whatever it was, whatever it was she needed to cover with extra flair was only momentary. But one moment started stretching into days, started splotching dark circles under eyes, days have become weeks. How much longer can she continue like this? Her hand pressed in his and it should feel comforting, but it feels like there’s too much space between their palms and he can’t hold her close enough. She’s so far away right now and she shouldn’t be. That’s not what she needs.

 

“Vivienne.” Bull whispered low so that it did not cut the air but stirred up slowly along with the embers from the fire. She didn’t bother to control the fire tonight. She didn’t acknowledge him, her eyes were closed, but it was clear she wasn’t sleeping. He was sure she wasn’t sleeping most nights by the way she applied her makeup, at least when she came down from her study. She denied requests to accompany the Inquisitor most times, claiming her research, and that her campaign for the election of the Divine was eating up her time.

 

Iron Bull got up from the bed covering Vivienne with the comforter as he went. Silence had stretched long enough for the fire to eat away at too much wood. He needed to stoke it.

 

Finishing his task and turned towards the bed, Vivienne’s back facing him and she curled herself under the sheets.

 

Bull let out a heavy sigh, rolling his stiff shoulders. He needed to try again.

 

“Vivienne,” he started softer than before, “please, tell me what’s wrong. Do you need me to do something? To not do something?” She uncurled herself and turned to him with her eyes open but looking past him at the fire. He approached the bed slowly and kneeled at the side, propping up one arm on the mattress his cheek against his palm.

 

One more try. “Do you know what you need?” Her expression tensed immediately, her lips trembled fighting a frown, her eyes watered, and she started blinking rapidly.

 

He rose immediately to reach out to her, but he stopped short, maybe she didn’t want to be touched now. “Vivienne, do you-” She halted his words by extending her hand out to him, he took it. She didn’t move beyond that, staying prone on her side her hand clasped between both of his as he sat down beside her.

 

“I…” She croaked out. Stopping to suck in a shaky breath. Vivienne twisted her face into the pillow and her whole body tensed and shivered. The hand in his tried ball into a fist, instead her nails dug at scraped at his palms. He could hear the sound of her nails on her other hand scraping and catching the underside of her pillow.

 

He leaned over to caress her back with one hand. His hand pushing the sheets away so skin could touch skin. That at least stopped her small tremors. She turned her face away from the pillow training her gaze on the fire.

 

“I can’t.. I..my nightmares, Bastien. Why? Can’t- couldn’t. My fau-” She choked off again but was determined to continue. Her jaw clenched hard, sounds slugged their way through the sap of her sadness, her tongue folding over them breaking them before they could turn to words.

 

“Breathe slowly.” He reached underneath her to pull her up into a sitting position against his side to help her breathe a little easier. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to get her to fall into rhythm with him. She did. And then a whisper, so small and quiet he almost missed it.

 

“Why was helping him beyond me?” Vivienne squeezed her eyes shut and round heavy tears tumbled their way out, rolling down her face hitting the arm he had wrapped around her middle. He pulled her up closer cradling her face into the crook of his neck letting her sob. This is what she needed.

 

____________

 

Stone ground slowly and evenly into stone, the crunching and popping sounds of plants and berries part of a comforting task. The mortar and pestle Iron Bull used was large, well larger than something Vivienne would need to use, she would certainly need both hands to work the pestle, but it fit right in Bull’s hands. The gray stone bowl set before him on floor, steadied by his left hand as his right hand circled the pestle round and round. He’s making a batch of vitaar, he made a deathroot concentration earlier, and it was cooled sitting in a small cauldron away from him. She sketched down images of the other ingredients she didn’t recognize, things he said in Qunlat, things she’d ask him to explain once he was done. He was grinding a dark paste to make the vitaar black, his preferred color for his poison armor. The paste also held the necessary properties to give the vitaar its unique magic.

 

Vivienne looked around the room for a moment it narrowed up into a sunroof letting in light for them to do their work by, lanterns and candles all around if anymore light was needed. Most books and tools neatly put away, dust freshly wiped from the surfaces. She sat at her desk as she watched him work on the floor. This is something new for their routine. Still in Vivienne’s space, the room where she put her alchemy notes to use, but something neither of them needed the other for, but wanted to share. It was also to help her. She started neglecting her alchemy research since Bastien’s passing, and more so since her grief started spilling over, since the Fade started wading in trying to drown her in her dreams. Vivienne needed to become familiar with her space again, to find comfort in it as she once did.

 

Iron Bull reached for his small cauldron of deathroot extract and began spooning in careful amount into the paste, enough to loosen it, mixing it slowly into the consistency it needed to be. One last ingredient, he had explained to her earlier, Qunari blood. She wondered how in this way his blood could neutralize the poison. What was it about Qunari blood?

 

Bull took a small knife to his thumb and pressed until blood beaded out. Holding his thumb over the mortar he let hefty drops plop down as he recited something with purpose. The faintest hiss could be heard from concoction as he let one final droplet fall into it. He stirred it a few more times. Vivienne could sense it, the faintest hint of magic radiating from the bowl. Bull made quick work of bandaging his thumb and pouring the vitaar mixture into a jar, a small cloth between the mouth and cover to keep it from drying out before he could use it.

 

“Well Ma’am, what do you think?” He held up the jar appraisingly.

 

Vivienne sifted through her notes. Well she certainly had a lot of questions, but she knew he couldn’t answer them all today. She watched him begin gathering up his things, wiping out the mortar with a damp rag. He carefully poured the deathroot extract into a glass vial, well that gave her a place to start.

 

“Well you said there are other poisons that can be used, what are they?”

 

Bull looked thoughtful for a moment, corking the vial of deadly liquid. “Hm, there’re plenty, Ma’am. Let’s see, there’s spider venom, elfsnake venom, rashvine , some other plants… Oh! Wyvern venom now that’s good stuff!” He smiled broadly and began packing his things in the chest he brought them in.

 

Vivienne wrote down what he listed but something gave her pause. _Wyvern._ She wrote that down slowly, she hadn’t exactly told him the part about that beast tearing at her dreams, but she wasn’t exactly ready to deal with everything yet either. She closed her book, not caring if the ink was fully dry and dropped her quill in her ink bottle. Not now, her mind had finally eased. ‘ _Just, breathe.’_

 

She exhaled and looked up from her desk. Bull was done packing and now busying himself trying to find something of interest on her bookshelf.

 

“I suppose, as a next step, you should show me how you apply it, my dear.” Viv’s lips curled into a smile as she reclined back into her chair.

 

“Oh?” He began, feigning nonchalance. “You’d want to see that? It is still poisonous until it dries. I don’t know how wise that’d be, Ma’am.”

 

Viv hummed. “I assure you, I am just observing. All in the name of research.”

 

“Ha!” He turned to her with that laugh. “Oh really?”

 

“Yes, that’s all I’d want to do.”

 

“ **All** you’d want to do?” He stared at her in mock disbelief.

 

Viv quirked her brow. “Do you have something else in mind, my dear?”

 

“You know it, Peaches.” He leaned down over her desk and watched her try and fail to keep herself from laughing. That nickname never failed to make her laugh. He sure loved it when she laughed. Her laugh was like the clinking of crystal. Airy and light, sparkling. Weighted and defined. Expensive. Delicate. If luxury had a sound. He loved that sound.

 

He loved her.

 

He paused.

 

_…he…loved her…_

 

Bull looked away, then back at her. Could she see the shock on his face? No, no his training should’ve hid it, but he felt like he slipped, maybe for a moment he had a strange look on his face. Her face…she…sure she was always beautiful…but…his heart fluttered in his chest… maybe it actually stopped beating… he looked away again. A hand on his forearm brought him back, he pushed his thoughts away. But looking back at Vivienne, it was like looking at someone entirely different, he wanted to look everywhere at once, take in everything that she was.

 

 _‘No.’_ She was just crying in his arms a few nights ago over a dead man she still loved.

 

“Bull?” Viv grabbed his attention again.

 

“Sorry, I uh suddenly remembered what those, uh, small berries I used are called..I uh…” He was sure she didn’t believe him, she didn’t bother reach for her quill. The playful vibe gone, she patted his arm.

 

“We can discuss it another time. Perhaps you’re a little more tired than you realized.”

 

“Right. I’ll take my leave, Ma’am.”

 

“No, you d-”

 

“It’s alright I do feel like I need to lay down for a while.” He quickly picked up his chest, did his best to smile, and see himself out.

 

He stopped outside in the hall.

 

“Shit…”


	6. Peaches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW update ~ Happy Valentine's Day~

Iron Bull asked Vivienne to do this, no, he begged her, on his knees. She complied, graciously.

It’s hard to look at her lately, without feeling like he’d wither away. Without feeling like his face would betray him. That he’d say more than he meant to. But like this he didn’t have to look, she wouldn’t notice his flittering gaze, she’d think little of the hammering heartbeat under her palm.

 

Vivienne pressed him down into the bed, he went easy. The mattress soft and welcoming, her hands along his body, equally as soft. Relaxing, preparing him, to do what he desperately wanted.

 

To fuck him.

 

_Please._

 

A phallus, strapped to her hips. Not terribly big, but not terribly small either. One from his collection. Smooth and curved and magic infused to make it warm. Oiled for ease. The concept wasn’t new to Vivienne, and her smile when he said what wanted told of her experience.

 

Bull’s own hands around his dick stroking. One of Viv’s hands pressed into his hip, reminding him to keep still. Her other hand, her fingers, slender and delicate, lanced him to his core. Insistent, opening him, exposing him. Searching, rubbing into that little spot that made his whole body seize and shudder.

 

“Come on, Peaches.” He chocked out. She was sweet, so sweet, too sweet. Overwhelmingly sweet. Her sweetness stuck somewhere in his ribs, like honey, oozing into his heart, filling it, making it pump faster, desperately.

 

Bull hooked one leg around her waist and pulled to make himself clear, his urgency making her strap-on bump into his dick. They shared a laugh.

 

“In due time.” She aligned herself. Slowly she pushed in, bending over to kiss his chest as their hips met.

 

 _Slow_ , he asked her to go slow. With purpose. She jostled him. Commanding impressive strength, sliding him along the bed, but he was pliant. Open.

 

Keeping his eye closed reached up to her with both hands, cupping her breasts, thumbing her nipples.

 

She gasped, driving particularly hard, into that spot that made his hips jump and press the other end of the phallus into her clit.

 

She ground her hips, keeping this position, spurring them both.

 

A moan shuddered out from her lips. He looked at her, through the haze. _Close._

 

He fisted over his dick and she picked up the pace, each thrust jostling them both.

 

She gasped again, her head reeling back, mouth open, her silent scream eating up all the sound in the room.

 

Honey spilt from his heart into his lungs. He gasped out desperately, a rumble to a throaty roar. He followed her, and trickled out of himself.

 

He bit his tongue when she looked at him, he almost slipped, almost opened his mouth to say something more. Only nodding when she made sure he was okay.

 

Bull pulled Viv to him, angled his face carefully into the crook of her neck.

 

What he wanted to say coated his tongue, viscous and too bittersweet, but he managed to say something else, ease his mouth from being too honest.

“Thanks, Peaches, I needed that.” That was at least true.

 

“Anytime, darling.”

 

He snorted, well at least there was that.


	7. Didn't you realize?

They sit down on the floor beside the bed, Iron Bull’s back propped against the side, and Vivienne seated on a cushion between his legs.

 

The oil slicks his fingers and allows Bull to pull and weave Viv’s hair into neat braids along her scalp.

 

 _“Just a touch.”_ She said a few months ago when Bull remarked that she was no longer keeping it trimmed low.

 

He considers himself good at this, and she seems to think so too as she accepts his offer each time. Sometimes he gets a little elaborate with the design when she doesn’t want to wear it out or any wraps or hats. This time she just needed straight clean rows, she was meant to join Inquisitor Adaar out in The Arbor Wilds, she needed to protect her hair, and if she needed to touch it up, something simple would be easiest to redo.

 

When did he start doing this, he wonders, reaching for the bottle of oil beside him on the floor, he had one more row to go. Oh right, right, somewhere, blurred into when he realized how he felt, he offered to help one night. He’d walked in on her having trouble catching the ends of her braids, he was quick and clean. He knows he isn’t as fast as he used to be with some of his fingers gone from his left hand, but he is still fast enough.

 

The oil is golden, viscous, and fruity, a mixture Vivienne said she learned to make as a little girl. For a moment Bull looks at the puddle he’s poured into his hand, he remembers she was surprised back then. He rubs the oil in his hands and then combs his fingers through her hair, detangling as gently as possible. Maybe with his head lacking in hair it seems strange that he knows? But he explained that plenty of Qunari had soft tightly coiled hair. His “Tama” did, her hair gray like storm cloud, and she’d showed him how to do it.

 

He reaches for a jar and scoops out some beeswax, warming it in his palm thoroughly to coat her curls, this will help it hold better. He puts a little extra on the tail of the braid. The ends of the braid have started curling more and more at the nape of her neck, her hair flourishing under the care its been given.

 

Bull pours a little more oil and dabs into it with his finger rubbing the oil on the exposed skin between the braids.

 

“All done, Ma’am.” He says, closing the bottle and jar beside him, wiping off any excess with a small hand towel. Vivienne doesn’t move away from between his legs where she sits on the floor with him, and reaches for the hand mirror beside his leg, taking it to look over her braids.

 

Her smile reflects in the mirror, and just for a moment his breath catches in his throat.

 

“Thank you, darling.”

 

“Any time, Ma’am.”

 

She puts the mirror down and picks up the hair wrap she’s had resting in her lap. She scoots just a little bit forward so her hands don’t knock into his chest as she wraps it around her head. The silk wrap is white, and embroidered with yellow thread in a Rivain style, the pattern winding and twisting he thinks it looks a bit like the Sun. He tucks in a few stray ends of hair and she knots it at the front, a simple one since she will sleep soon. If she wears her hair wrapped to an event or for the day, it’s either a colorful complex pattern with a knot reminiscent of a big open flower, or limited colors and simple patterns, wrapped and folded to give it interest and shape with the ends tucked neatly away.

 

Vivienne leans back against him, her body mostly meeting his stomach, her head just barely reaching his chest.

 

Maybe she won’t notice the way his heart skips a beat, and how he just barely hides the shudder of breath as he leans his head back on the side of the bed.

 

They sit and enjoy the warmth of the fire.

 

Her breathing is slowing down now, her can feel her sink back, relaxed against his front. In what seems like an instant he falls asleep too.

 

He wakes just as she does. His neck and back are stiff, but he feels rested.

 

It’s close to sunrise, the smell of fresh bread giving him a clue.

 

Bull excuses himself with a kiss on Viv’s cheek. He’ll leave her to get ready for her mission with the Inquisitor later.

 

 _‘Vivienne will be gone before the day is done.’_ The thought whispers in his mind as he stands out in the hall at her door. His hand rests on the door handle, fingers twitching, wanting to push down and open the door again, let her know what’s in his heart. He takes his hand away fast and sharp like the metal of the handle is suddenly searing hot. Bull looks down at his hand, it’s trembling, he clenches it and sucks in a deep breath.

 

“No.” He says quietly, a very small but firm command to himself, and makes his way out to go check in with The Chargers.

____________

Vivienne looks over her braids again, making sure they survived the night. Not a single strand is out of place. She smiles, a job well done.

 

She looks down at the scarf she just took off. Bastien gave her this, as she recalls. How many years does this one make it? From some time when she was younger, before he fell ill, of that she is sure. She smiles as she folds it. When did she last smile looking at something he gave her?

 

Viv takes out a different head wrap. This one, well Iron Bull helped her pick it out after the first time he helped her braid her hair. Silk like all the others she had, but it’s that dusted rose color like his belt. At the time she laughed when he said they match now, the belt she gave him a little simpler. She traces the silver trimming, then again this is simple too, and something about its simplicity is elegant. Wrapping it she tucks the ends underneath. Deciding to wear this for the majority of her trip, she smiles a little wider.

 

____________

 

A rare moment of calm takes over the night the as the sun finishes tucking itself away. How long will the peace last? The jungle is deep, damp, humid, and entirely unknowable. They’ve just barely begun their journey into the forest, but it is absolutely buzzing with magical energy. Summoning her spirit blade earlier came easy, too easy, she just barely finished her thought, and the blade solidified without much effort, crackling hard till her arm shook. It took more than her usual sense of control to shape it to a clean smooth blade.

 She looked around the camp, Morrigan mentioned it briefly but was drawn into squabbling on and off with Solas. Cassandra may have not felt it exactly, but her senses seemed sharper. Inquisitor Adaar, in some way she must’ve felt it. Adaar sat down next to her with a smile sheathing her freshly cleaned dagger on her back. Vivienne can actually hear the low ebbing hum of The Mark out here.

 

“So you and The Iron Bull, Vivienne, really?” The Inquisitor whispers leaning in closer to Vivienne as they sit before the fire.

 

“I do believe you know enough about my personal life.” Vivienne says lighting her oil lamp so she can finish touching up her notes.

 

“Well I can’t help it, it’s obvious in the way he looks at you. I was just wonderin’…” Adaar trails off looking back at the horizon.

 

 _‘The way he looks, at me?’_ Vivienne takes a quick moment to make sure her face hasn’t betrayed her thoughts.

 

“Sometimes you look at him so sweetly too.” Adaar continues, almost squealing. “You know, my parents once told me a the Qunari way of professing love, if you want I can always tell you about that.”

 

 _‘Love?’_ That word catches in Vivienne’s mind. Perhaps…?

 

“Since you feel so open to discuss relationships, Aissa, I do hope you stop stringing along darling little Sera and Lieutenant Aclassi.”

 

“I…” Aissa starts, but stops, kissing her teeth instead.

 

“If you do not make your intentions clearer, trouble will come. While neither boosts your status, it would be a terrible shame to hurt them so. Of course, a scorned Sera might be more than you anticipate.” Vivienne dots the final sentence in her journal, and Adaar finds herself lost in thought brow scrunched in worry.

 

Vivienne observes Aissa. Between her silver capped horns, her hair is red like clay, neatly twisted down along her back, well normally it is, but today’s events have frayed the ends and roots letting the loose hair curl every which way. And now, the way she sits eyes looking far beyond the horizon, radiating a nervous energy, she seems shaken. Didn’t she realize how she was sharing her affection? Although, if Vivienne is honest with herself, maybe she isn’t the best to ask this question right now.

 

Vivienne tucks away her book and quill and touches Adaar’s shoulder. “When the time comes, be honest.” She smiles at her, and all at once Aissa is calm.

 

They sit a little longer Vivienne offering to fix some of her fine ropes of hair it’d be a shame for it to come undone. She offers Aissa one of her spare scarves, but she declines, insisting she already has one it’s just too hot for her to wear in a fight.

 

It only takes a short while to re-twist her hair, and then Vivienne excuses herself to bed. She has some things to consider herself.

____________

 

Adaar drinks from the Well of Sorrows later on their journey, Vivienne is proud of that decision, Morrigan is, well Vivienne doesn’t trust her “expertise”. And she knows with certainty that the Arcane Advisor is only loyal to herself. Solas is suspicious as well, and clearly knows more than he wishes to tell, Vivienne is happy he refused to drink too.

 

Calpernia just barely clings to life, but the Inquisitor insists on taking her back to Skyhold for a trial, and undoubtedly an interrogation.

____________

 

 “How do you feel?” Vivienne asks Aissa on the balcony of her study.

 

“I think, you’re actually the first person to ask. Everyone else is a little…” Aissa trails off. She’s such a tall woman, but right now, she’s made herself small with her shoulders bunched.

Yes, she’s aware of their feelings. This is old powerful magic, but Vivienne is willing to understand the unknown.

 

Vivienne takes her hands. “I assure you my friend, Dorian and I will research this further, whatever it may take. We will protect you, that is a promise.”

 

Aissa smiles down at her and squeezes her hands the ring Vivienne gave her after Bastien’s death catching the light.

 

“Thank you, Vivienne.”

____________

 

“Freaks me out almost as much as stepping into the fade.” Iron Bull grumbles cramming the last fruit tart into his mouth.

 

Vivienne watches him over her book, not bothering to correct him on his manners. A few things occupy her most present thoughts.

 

Bull notices her stare however, giving an apologetic look as he wipes the crumbs of his mouth with a napkin.

 

She hums. “Yes, Sera made that quite clear as well.” She closes her book and measures him with her gaze. Is now a good time?

 

Is there ever a good time?

 

“I did not expect our relationship to reach this state, Iron Bull.” She places her book down before her on the table. He sits up straighter.

 

“Do you want to stop this, Vivienne?” He obscures his hands, one behind the teapot, the other hanging off the armrest below her eye level, they both tremble. He tries desperately to keep is breath even and quiet. ‘ _Don’t hold it don’t hold it don’t hold it.’_

 

“I do not. I realize where we are now is not what we intended. Perhaps, it is best if we take a moment to think about what has become of us. I feel that we should take some time apart to collect our thoughts, and then we can discuss.” Vivienne bites the inside of her cheek. Is this the right move? Resting over her crossed legs, her hands prick and sting, ice magic frosting under her palms. _‘Control.’_

 

Something cold and sharp grips his heart. It’s not the end of things, right? That’s not what she said to him. ‘ _Just…breathe.’_

 

“I understand, Ma’am. Let me know when you’re ready to speak.” He rises up and excuses himself.

 

Hearing him exit her room she is finally able to stop the ice that’s creeping to the top of her hands. She summons a very weak fire in her hands to warm them till she can flex her fingers again. She fiddles with the brooch she gave him, taking it off and setting it on top of her book. She’ll have to put it away for now.

 

____________

 

Bull makes it to the tavern without much fuss. He isn’t sure, however, when a tankard was pushed into his hand, but he is thankful for it. Drinking deeply, he distracts himself with what Krem is saying. Something about Adaar fighting a dragon is said and that’s enough to hush the feeling in his chest.

 

It’s not over, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while~ Hope y'all enjoyed.
> 
> I I have a fic blog on tumblr by the same name scrawlingcomet

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Deedee, XOXO, I won~

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Mending Iron by Scrawlingcomet [PODFIC]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14154660) by [Intergalactic_Octopus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Intergalactic_Octopus/pseuds/Intergalactic_Octopus)




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